


Sarong

by helens78



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-08
Updated: 2003-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak convinces Bashir to help him figure out how a particular type of garment is supposed to fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarong

**Author's Note:**

> For Barbana's Sarong challenge! What could be nicer than a man in a sarong?

Bashir looked at the scrap of fabric in Garak's hands and raised an eyebrow. "Is that a fabric sample?" he asked.

"No, Doctor," Garak said -- purred -- _said_, dammit. "It's a Terran article of clothing known as a sarong. I thought the pattern looked like you." Garak grinned. "It's just the slightest bit reminiscent of the pattern of a preganglionic fiber..."

"It looks much more like a postganglionic nerve," Bashir replied.

"Yes, well, you _have_ been known to confuse those on one or two occasions," Garak smiled. "Try it on for me. I'd like to see how it looks."

Bashir took the fabric from Garak and held it up. "I don't understand. How does it fit?"

"From what I gather, it can be worn in any number of configurations. You Terrans are terribly inventive."

"That or we're terribly boring," Bashir groused. "It's a plain rectangle. I don't see how it works."

"Well, if you'd take off your trousers, I'd be happy to help you get it fitted properly."

Bashir glanced up, but Garak's eyes were unreadable, as always. "Take off my trousers... right."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Terran modesty." Garak inclined his head and regarded Bashir with his traditional curiosity. "You realize I _am_ a tailor. It's considered perfectly normal for me to see all kinds of people in various states of undress."

"Fine, fine," Bashir grumbled. He slid out of his jumpsuit, leaving the turtleneck on but stripping out of his trousers. He pulled the sarong around his hips and looked up at Garak. "All right. Help."

"Hmm." Garak looked critically at the fabric, then stepped forward and tied a quick knot at Bashir's left hip. He arranged the fabric into softly cascading folds and stood back to regard his work. "I can see why this is such a popular style on Earth," he nodded. "It's very attractive, Doctor."

"I think this is the sort of thing women wear," Bashir said, shaking his head. "I don't think it works on me, Garak. I'm sorry."

Garak sighed with a bit of theatrical disappointment. "And I so enjoyed looking at your legs. Tell me, are all humans so hairy?"

Bashir looked down at his legs and looked back up, face flaming. "I think it depends on the human," he stuttered. "Garak--"

"Doctor, I believe there's something wrong with the skin of your face." Garak stepped forward and placed his hand against Bashir's cheek. "You're flushed. And you aren't so unhealthily cool as you usually are."

"I -- ah -- Garak..." Bashir clutched at the front of his sarong. "Nothing's the matter. Perhaps you're right. Why don't you let me keep this for a while and I'll decide if I want to buy it?"

"Why don't you give it back?" Garak murmured. "You know, I really don't mind if you're having an uncontrollable physical reaction to me. I've seen it happen on several occasions during our conversations. You act as if you think it will bother me. Doctor, I am very difficult to bother."

"But it bothers _me_," Bashir whispered. "You're..."

"A Cardassian?" Garak drew his hand away. "I'm disappointed in you, Doctor. I never took you for a xenophobe."

"No," Bashir said, rolling his eyes, "it isn't _that_. You're _male_."

Garak frowned, and tilted his head. "And that's a concern?"

"For me, yes."

"How strange. Terrans have the oddest prejudices."

"It's not a prejudice!" Bashir sniffed. "It's--"

"If it's _not_ a prejudice, then why don't you kiss me?"

Bashir blinked, startled. "Because you're -- because I'm--"

"Here, let me make it easier for you." Garak stepped close again. "_I'll_ kiss _you_."

Garak's lips were warm, warmer than any Terran's; Bashir gasped, nearly feeling burned by them. Garak put a hand at the back of Bashir's neck and held him in the kiss, not letting Bashir go until Garak's tongue had slid inside Bashir's mouth and explored him thoroughly. When Garak finally did pull back, Bashir was only flushing more, and breathing heavily.

"How interesting," Garak murmured. "Your pulse has quickened, and your respiratory system appears taxed. Is that normal for Terrans when they kiss, Doctor?"

"Only if it's a good kiss," Bashir whispered.

"Ahh. I see." Garak tugged at the knot in Bashir's sarong. "You know, I think this might not be for you after all. But if you want anything else -- _anything_ else, Doctor -- I'll be in my shop for the rest of the afternoon."

_-end-_


End file.
